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My fucking world.
A maelstrom of emotion whips through my chest when I think about how close I’ve come to losing her, on more than one occasion. I won’t survive it.
“I’m going to come,” she pants, her hands now on my thighs as she rides me.
I reach between our bodies to rub at her clit as my own orgasm sinks its claws into me.
Ellie comes with a scream, convulsing around my length, and it only takes me a few seconds longer before I’m coming as well with a roar.
My body shakes with the aftershocks of my orgasm, and Ellie’s breathing is just as unsteady.
“Do you think they enjoyed the show?” she asks breathlessly, her words ringing with laughter.
“Let's check.” I reach for my phone—keenly aware that Ellie’s still on my cock—and open the group chat.
Landon: Fucking hell.
Dom: God.
Zane: Seriously? Without me? *sad face*
Zane: Excuse me while I go jizz over this dead body.
Ryker: I hate you all.
Ellie and I exchange knowing smiles…before my smile instantly fades, replaced by a pained grimace as my cock begins to thicken inside of her.
“Ellie…” I don’t know if I’m warning her to get off of me or begging her to move again.
Ellie smirks, her eyes glimmering with cunning, and then says, “I think our audience would like an encore performance. Wouldn’t you agree?”
And that’s exactly what we do.
26
ZANE
Fucking hell. It’s really hard to be walking around with a ten-inch erection when you’re trying to murder someone.
Okay, fine. Nine inch.
It’s really hard to be walking around with a nine-inch erection when you’re trying to murder someone. As much as I enjoyed the show Ellie and Beckett put on—and trust me when I say, I most definitely did enjoy it—now is not the time to be thinking about it.
Roy, here, might get the wrong idea.
When Beckett texted us and said we needed to take care of Roy, my Zaney senses began to tingle.
And they had a reason to.
It appears as if my new buddy is as obsessed with my girl as I am. He has an entire shrine in his bedroom dedicated to her—pictures of her in the hallway, a note she wrote him in science class, and even a lock of her hair.
Look, here’s the thing…
I’m not trying to be hypocritical or anything, but I’m the only one who’s allowed to obsessively stalk my princesa, dammit. It’s our thing. I stalk her, she pretends to be horrified, I sniff her underwear…
A typical love story, you know?
Roy is not allowed to sniff her underwear.
